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Oh Distant You

de Wilbur Soot

I remember it well
Smoked the last of the weed beside your armchair
Said you were tired
You said you need something, need something to hold
So I gave you my coat

You chose to lean on me, lean on me instead

(Oh, oh)

I hate the way that I talk
When the words won't give off
The kind of praise esteemed of you

And what the hell could I say
When you're two stars from grace
And the world turns for you?

I'm just saying, man
If the lord worked oh so kindly
He could whip me up a clone of you

But I still wouldn't glance
'Cause the thought of someone further
'Cause I'd have to take a month off work
To sit down in the kitchen

And explain all our in-jokes
And teach her all our fiction
And cry with her to wall-e
And still, I'd fuckin' miss ya
And finally, it hit me
That I was not the fix-all
I was just the villain
And every single modicum of energy
I gave to all the little things
Compounded my placidity

And drove out all the good things
And made life, oh, so heavy
And now I can't wake up and talk to you

Oh, distant you
Oh, gorgeous you
Oh, you

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